A Christmas gift for my dear friend and co-author, who never ceases to inspire me. May we share more collaborations in the coming year. And for everyone who enjoys this modest AU, with best wishes for a wonderful holiday season and a fulfilling and happy New Year. A plethora of references for S4, just so you know.
-December, 1989-
"It's my fault."
"MacGyver, you know that's not true. Becky just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when the scaffolding slipped. Pure accident, nothing to do with you at all." Most of the time, Pete Thornton talks sense.
"You don't know that," Mac mutters. "If I hadn't let her go ahead without me to the Challengers Club this wouldn't have happened."
"Look on the bright side. At least she's still alive. It's a good thing Ray was there, to pull her out of the wreckage when he did."
"But she's in a coma, Pete. Look at her!" Waves a hand at Becky's unconscious form in the hospital bed. Burnished copper hair fans out over the pillow. There's an oxygen tube in her nose. Several IVs protrude from her arms, giving her the nutrients she needs. "I should've been there to get her out in time, stop everything from falling on top of her."
"Stop it, Mac." His friend's voice is firm. "There's no use beating yourself up over things you can't control."
"You don't get it!" He's shouting now. People are beginning to stare at him and he knows he ought to keep his voice down, but he can't help himself. "She's my responsibility, I'm supposed to keep her safe. It's all my fault-"
"Whoa there, old buddy," Jack Dalton softly interjects from the other side. "Take it easy. We both know how much you love your princess, but that's no reason to take your frustrations out on us. She's a strong kid, she'll snap out of it. You'll see."
"He's right, Mac. The doctors say Becky's vital signs are stable; she'll wake up when she's good and ready, not before. Worrying and blaming yourself in the meantime won't help her get any better." Pete places a reassuring hand on his arm. "Look. You haven't eaten a thing since you got here. Go down to the cafeteria, Jack and I will stay here and keep an eye on her."
Mac sighs. His friends mean well, he knows. Even if their soothing words aren't helping in the slightest. "Yeah, guess I'll head out. But have them let me know on the P.A. system if anything happens, okay?"
Jack offers a jaunty salute. "You got it, amigo."
The cafeteria is nearly empty when MacGyver enters, the daytime hustle and bustle replaced with cleaning crew and a few handfuls of hospital personnel and visitors slouching at tables here and there.
He gets a cup of hot water and a teabag. Outside the evening's turned cool and rainy, just the way Becky likes it at this time of year.
Heck of a way to spend Christmas Eve.
His eyes tear up. If she dies while unconscious he won't ever be able to tease her again about her love for wet weather, even as she's thriving in sunny Southern California.
God, he worries too much. Maybe things would've been easier for both of them, if he never had to look after her in the first place-
A mop handle knocks against the Styrofoam cup in his hand; hot water splashes onto his hand and the sleeve of his flannel shirt.
"Oh, my! Sure sorry about that, Mister. Guess I wasn't paying attention. Here, take this." A gnarled, dark-skinned hand passes him a cotton towel.
"Thanks." He dabs at the water stains. "My fault, really. Wasn't paying attention either." An elderly, white haired woman stares anxiously at him; a name tag on her uniform reads Clara. Must be part of the late-night cleaning crew. "You okay, ma'am?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she replies. "Everything all right with you? Looks like you got a lot on your mind."
He's about to claim he's fine in return, politely dismiss her inquiries- but to his surprise that doesn't happen. "Not really. My niece is a patient here. She was helping at a Christmas benefit pageant for a youth center that's undergoing renovations not far from here. They had some metal scaffolding up to work on the ceiling and one corner suddenly collapsed. She was able to get a group of little kids out of the way in time, but got caught underneath herself, knocked out cold. She's in a coma right now."
"I'm so sorry to hear that. But you mustn't lose hope. Miracles do happen, especially at this time of year. Your niece could wake up at any time."
"I sure hope so," he says softly. "But that's beside the point. It's all my fault. I should've come with her. Stopped it from happening, she would've been safe-"
The cleaning lady's staring at him, a curious gleam in those dark twinkling eyes. "Would've, could've and should've, eh? Three words that trip folks up even at the best of times." She guides him over to a table in a deserted corner. "There, now, sit down, relax. Why feel guilty over something you have no control over, that you weren't even present to stop from happening in the first place?"
Ridiculous to be spilling his guts out to a total stranger sitting across from him in a hospital cafeteria late at night. Is he going nuts, or what?
Yet there's something about this kindly old black woman that seems to invite confidences. Much like Becky, in a way.
MacGyver sighs, slumping in his seat. "Guess it's because I worry about Becky so much as it is. See, her folks died about three years back, she's still a minor, and I'm all she's got for family. And my job's pretty dangerous as it is, even without having a niece to look after; bad enough she gets involved sometimes. I don't know what I was thinking, asking her if she wanted to move in with me."
"Do you regret your decision, then? Ever wish things were different?"
"Sometimes I wonder, yeah. But you can't change the past."
"And if one could?" Clara says, softly. "Alter a few threads, reweave the tapestry of your life? Do you think things would be easier, if you never had a niece to worry after?"
Mac frowns. "What are you talking about?"
The cleaning lady abruptly rises from the table. "I've taken up too much of your time. Why don't you just rest there for a spell? I'm sure you'll feel better after a good long nap."
"But I'm not tired-"
And then, abruptly, he's slumping forward in his seat, wearily resting his head against his arms folded on the table.
Falling deeper into darkness with every breath.
The phone rings.
MacGyver cracks open an eye, then shuts it. Becky will pick it up for him, he's sure of it. She always does thoughtful things like that.
The phone keeps ringing.
He groans, tries to stretch his long legs, then realizes he must've fallen asleep on the couch again.
The ringing stops, the answering machine switches on. Hi, you've reached MacGyver. We all how these things work, so when the beep sounds, go for it.
(Wait, why is the message different? Usually Becky's voice would be included-)
Beep. "MacGyver? Sorry to wake you after you got in so late, but something urgent has come up, I need you at the Foundation as soon as possible." Beep.
Mac can't help but chuckle. Something's always urgent with Pete. Guess he'd better wake Becky, let her know he'll be gone for a while.
He sits up, yawns, stretching his arms over his head, looks around at his home, sweet home.
And blinks. Everything's changed.
Sure, there's all his stuff, his books and things picked up on his travels, comfy couch, the plaque with the family crest and motto-
But this isn't the same apartment.
It's a houseboat. Cozy enough, all warm wood and everything tucked away in drawers and on shelves. Living room and tidy kitchenette. A spiral staircase leading upstairs to a bathroom and sleeping loft.
Yet no sign of a niece anywhere in sight.
Mac grits his teeth. There's only one person he knows capable of pulling out all the stops to get his undivided attention this way. Jack Dalton.
The front door bangs open. "Helloo! Anybody home?"
Speak of the devil, beaming at him. Bushy mustache, peaked cap, flight jacket and all.
"Jack," he growls, rising from the couch. "What do you want? If this is your idea of a really sick joke-"
Jack holds up his hands in placation. "Whoa there, pardner. A bit touchy first thing in the morning, aren't we? Just stopped by to say hi to my old buddy, that's all."
"Aw come on, I know you better than that. What have you done with Becky, huh? Did you talk her into helping with this stunt?"
"Becky? Who's that?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Jack. My niece, Becky Grahme?"
Jack blinks in confusion. "You sure about that, Mac? You haven't got a niece. Unless you're talking about some kid from the Challengers Club you've taken a shine to-"
"Knock it off, already! You know who I mean. The daughter of my sister, Allison." What's Jack's angle? Why is he acting so dense all of a sudden?
"Man, your brain must've got rattled during your last assignment. You've never had any siblings. I was there with you in Mission City, so I oughta know. Just you, your mom and Harry, no one else."
MacGyver stares intently at Jack. No eye twitch. "You're not foolin' with me, are you?"
"Scout's honor, old buddy." He does the salute, rather poorly. "Only child."
No way. He's going nuts. Has to be.
Jack's looking at him with concern now. "Hey, you okay?"
His head's starting to spin. "Um, can you come back another time? I feel kinda funny."
"Sure, Mac. Though not for too long- I need your timely assistance with a sweet little deal I'm working on, and the window's closing fast. Hasta luego, amigo."
Soon as Jack's gone MacGyver collapses back onto the couch, eyes wide. No Allison? He clearly remembers growing up with his Mom, Harry and his older sister.
Yet here apparently Allison doesn't even exist.
Therefore no children of her own. No Chris. And no Becky.
The thought fills him with an aching loneliness.
After a hot shower, shave and breakfast he drives to Phoenix and checks in with Pete. Who- in between a hurried briefing regarding a local terrorist bomb threat- also has no idea who Becky is, not to mention Allison.
He can't tell yet if anything else has fundamentally changed at the Foundation. Though Pete seems a touch more stressed, maybe.
(No ameliorating influence of a helpful teenage assistant, adept at paperwork.)
"You know, I could sure use Nikki's help with this one. She's got some contacts at the CIA, and-"
Pete looks up from his files. "Mac, are you all right? Since when do you think Nikki can actually help you with an assignment?"
"What're you talking about? Since always. She's a really good agent. Better than me at a lot of things, anyway... Why are you staring at me like that?"
Pete ruefully shakes his head. "Some timing you have, to be admitting this even as she's leaving."
"She's what?"
"You hadn't heard yet? Nikki handed in her resignation yesterday. Packing her things even as we speak. Wait, MacGyver, I'm not finished with the briefing-"
Mac's already out the door.
Nikki's pulling books off the shelves, storing them methodically in cardboard boxes. She spares him a brief glance as he enters her office. "News travels fast around here. I hoped to be gone before you got back from South America."
"Pete told me you resigned. Nikki, what's going on?"
She's glaring at him. "MacGyver, don't play games with me. I know we don't get along. Surely you're relieved another agent won't be around to cramp your style."
He blinks, thoroughly confused. "I don't get it. I thought you liked it here."
Her hard expression softens. "I do, but there's nothing worthwhile keeping me here. It's just another job, I can do this in D.C. as well as here. It's been hard for me to make friends since my husband died, and then when I lost my brother..." She shakes herself, clears her throat. "Well. Better not to have any ties in a profession like ours, you know? No friends or family to worry about all the time. Nobody who you fear might get into danger because of you."
"Nikki, I know you. You don't believe that, not for real."
(If Becky was here she'd have a reason to stick around. Wouldn't she?)
Another glare. "You don't know me as well as you think you do. Trust me, it's better this way. Having no one to care for is rather a freeing experience, actually. I can do whatever I want, with nothing to hold me back." She closes the box, tapes it shut. "It's been real, MacGyver. Watch yourself, okay? Maybe someday we'll meet again, playing the Great Game."
And that, apparently, is that. She's gone by the afternoon.
He feels another sense of loss, for what might have been.
And wonders if this is what the cleaning lady meant, about altered threads in a tapestry.
Since then he's found himself thrown into assignment after assignment, adventure after adventure.
Accompanying Penny to her Aunt Betty's (haunted) house on Halloween.
Rescuing Pete and a nun held by rebel forces in Barraca, with Jack's help.
Facing off against Murdoc during Penny's big musical debut.
Losing his good friend Booker at the hand of a Neo-Nazi thug.
Saving President Dakra from being assassinated by a brainwashed Jack and Pete.
So on and so forth. All in a day's work.
Hardly time to think about Becky, except when he returns to the houseboat (not the apartment) and feels the absence.
No one to stay up late waiting for him. No niece to heat up dinner, cuddle with him on the couch. No Becky to soothe him when the nightmares get to be too much.
MacGyver may have worried constantly for her safety but he realizes how very much he misses having her around. Just being there, keeping him grounded. Having someone to love, and be loved back in equal measure.
He does try to find substitutes. A little boy named Tommy, caught up in his parents' divorce. Crystal, a runaway teenage girl. A pretty park ranger he met on a stress-relieving camping trip with Phoenix employees that turned deadly.
It doesn't work. Every relationship turns out to be short-lived. They all have their own lives; they don't need him anymore after he's helped them.
(Good thing Pete, Jack and Penny still do, he has to admit.)
He's beginning to wonder if Nikki had the right idea after all. But every night his dreams are full of a short and pretty blue-eyed girl.
And worries what price he'll have to pay, to get his real life back.
The months fly by. It's late December.
No one around to celebrate the holidays with. Jack off to soak up the sun somewhere in Mexico, Pete at a conference in Europe. Penny's endless round of auditions and callbacks.
A phone call from Harry Christmas Day is welcome (they haven't seen each other in a long time, though), but otherwise things are very quiet. And lonely.
Achingly lonely.
Enough. He's gotta get out of here. Grabs his jacket and keys, heads for the jeep. Drives around town with no real idea where to go.
It's near midnight when he finds himself driving up a gravel road, stopping when the jeep's headlights illuminate a locked gate. Picks it open with his Swiss Army Knife.
Beyond is a path that leads to a place he remembers bringing Becky for a breakfast picnic, the first birthday she spent with him after the car crash. A corner of an old friend's estate, a beautiful woodsy clearing with a cheerful stream and view of the ocean. To remind her of the magical kingdom she once imagined- with him as her loyal knight and consort- and the special bond they shared.
(Even though he's never really believed in their connection, Becky always has. That's enough for him.)
Once in the clearing he sits against a tree, gazing up at the stars.
"Okay," he says to the uncaring light. "You win. I get the point. Having my niece around is worth the risk. Even if it means putting her life in danger more than I'd like. I can't make it without her. I want my real life back. C'mon, you got me into this. Now get me out."
There's a noise behind him, the flashlight reveals Clara, the cleaning lady from the hospital.
She raises a snow-white eyebrow. "I got you into this? You asked for this, MacGyver. You wanted to know what the tapestry of your life would be like, not having a niece to worry about. So here it is. You're free to do whatever you wish, without concern for her welfare. You can go anywhere, do anything. What more could you possibly want?"
"Change it back," he pleads. "Allison, Becky- I need them back in my life. Not just for my sake but for others, too. I didn't realize how much until now. Please, you gotta understand."
Clara smiles, enigmatically. "I do, believe me. I just wanted to know whether or not you did. Remember, the greatest gift we can give each other on this earth is love- for family, friends, even the strangers you meet and help every day. You shared that gift of love with your sister and your niece, and because of them you're slowly opening to the possibility of finding a lasting relationship with someone else. Maybe not in the immediate future, but sooner than you think. Trust me."
He nods, hesitantly. "If you say so. So what happens now?"
"Just close your eyes, MacGyver. Rest for a spell-"
And just like that, he sits back against the tree and closes his eyes.
"MacGyver?"
There's a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He looks up to find Pete hovering over him, concern etched into the lines of his face. "Mac, you okay?"
"Yeah," he mumbles. "Just give me a sec." He raises himself, blinks at his surroundings.
No houseboat. No wooded clearing at midnight, either. Just a secluded corner of a hospital cafeteria. Back to reality.
Mac stands, stretches. "Any news of Becky, Pete?"
"Yeah. Matter of fact she's awake and asking for you. We tried paging you through the P.A. system but when you didn't show up I went to find you. I was getting desperate until a cleaning lady said she'd seen you asleep in a corner down here. Sleep well?"
Man, that was some weird dream he had. But he's not about to tell Pete that; otherwise he'd insist on a a session with Doctors Beatty or Morgan at the Foundation. And that wouldn't do. "Oh fine, fine." He straightens his leather jacket, tugging at the collar, "C'mon, Pete, let's go check up on my sleeping beauty, huh?"
Becky's sitting up in bed as he comes into the room. She's pale and dark bruises cover her face and arms. Her blue eyes blink up at him in a sleepy daze.
To MacGyver she's never looked more beautiful. His cause for worry but also his reason for breathing, the source of all his joy.
Too bad he never fully realized it until now.
He smiles gently. "Hey, princess. How're you feeling?"
"Like a ton of junk fell on top of me." Her reply is faint.
"Sounds about right."
"Tell it to me straight, Unc. Will I be able to play the piano again?"
He chuckles. "Jack's been a bad influence on you. You never could play the piano in the first place, remember? But the docs say it's nothing short of a miracle that nothing major was broken. So you'll be out of the hospital in a few days and we'll go dancing at the New Year's Eve party Phoenix is sponsoring. Just like you wanted."
"Oh, good," she sighs. Looks out the window. Dawn breaking, light returning to the world. "It's morning, huh?"
"Yeah. Christmas morning, at that."
She frowns. "I didn't get your present wrapped."
"Don't need one. You're all the present I need, Beck." MacGyver finds himself wiping away tears as he bends to kiss her. "I love you so much, you know that? Almost afraid I'd lost you."
"Hey, you can't get rid of me that easily," she quips. "Love you too, Unc. And you're all the present I need. For Christmas and every day of the year." Her soft lips brush against his cheek and he holds her tight.
Behind him Jack and Pete start dabbing at their own eyes. "Geez, I'm choking up," Jack mutters thickly. "Must be somethin' in the air, huh?"
"Yeah." Pete swallows. "Must be."
"Well, well, well. Should've known I'd find you all here." Nikki strides into the room. "Soon as I got back in the States Helen tracked me down, told me what happened. Glad to see you're doing better, Becky."
"Thanks, Nikki. Merry Christmas to you, too."
"Why, it is Christmas, isn't it?" Penny exclaims as she sails in, carrying a pot with a mini live evergreen, decorated for the season. "Good thing, too, 'cause this old black woman outside in the hallway gave me this just now. MacGyver, she told me you can keep it inside for the winter, then plant it in the ground when the time's right."
"Be sure I'll do just that, Penny," Mac asserts. "The best presents are those that keep on giving."
"Like love," Becky says, smiling up at him. "And family, and friends. Shining threads in the tapestry of a person's life."
"That's downright poetic, kiddo," Jack observes. "How'd you come up with that?"
"An angel told me. In a dream I had while under."
Through the observation window an elderly woman with dark skin and snow-white hair smiles in blessing at the unconventional family gathered around the bed before disappearing in a bright flash of light.
And MacGyver wonders at the faint sound of tinkling bells that, apparently, only he can hear.
Angel Clara is essentially the same character as Angel Clarence, who helps out George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life. Just 'cause.